"The Agosto name numbered countless in figures and power. Indeed, the family of landowners and mages reigned amongst the most prominent within the north of the Republic. Today, three names compel us most: Victor, Matteo, and Paul, the last of which I shall introduce to the reader." Didiet Erasmus, Searching for the Lost Times of Victor Agosto, Volume 1.
Green hills and farmland stood uninterrupted for miles – if not for the carriage passing through the only paved path of the countryside of the Republic of Umbria. Inside the carriage sat a well-dressed man: black tight-fitting suit and white trousers making the handsome young man look fashionable and well-bred.
The man tugged at his brown overcoat. His long brown hair came out of its crevices and landed on his lower back. Meanwhile, his eyes danced over the idyllic rural commune outside.
"Monteverdi's suburbs are quite nice, aren't they?" He spoke to the coachman in the front seat.
The coachman turned back and nodded, "Yes, only the quietude of nature miles across. They even have good wine – you should try some, if you can, Dr. Paul."
"I will. Thank you for the recommendation, mister."
Not willing to let the eased atmosphere of their small talk dissipate away, Paul asked, "Mister, would it be in any way or shape possible to go a little faster?"
Paul snickered. He didn't lie. He used more than a little suggestion, inserting an insignificant amount of mana into his words to make them more persuasive.
The coachman sighed, "I apologize and apologize once again, Dr. Paul, but this is the fastest horse you'll find right now. All of the fastest horses have departed for Mount Rheinmark."
"Oh? What for?"
"Ah. Is it for the Aureola?" Paul rubbed his chin, a glint of curiosity crossing his eyes.
'I should go next year. There should be a few promising psychometry talents.'
The coachman smiled brightly akin to a child, "Yes! Yes! My dream is to one day travel there…"
"I hope you can achieve that soon," Paul waved, offering an empty gesture of consolation.
Retreating into his seat, Paul closed his eyes. Then, opening them, he took a look at his wrist. Two watches decorated it: a seasonal compass and a regular watch.
The seasonal compass was intricate, far more detailed than the ones used by the countryfolk. As such it pointed to the season, the day, and the month through another rotating ring.
"2nd of Germinal."
Paul frowned. A buzzing sound was bothering him. It was the coachman, who told stories about his wife and whatnot.
His field of vision omitted the coachman, looking instead towards the sluggish horse that pushed the carriage.
With clear intent, Paul visualized a complex sigil and channeled his mana outwards. As an advanced mage, he circumvented any need for chanting within most spells.
'That's more mana than I would've wanted to use.'
He shrugged. Animal minds were like that: harder to make sense of, comprehend, and modify. On the flip side, their mental defenses were much weaker than humans. His mana left his body and had no physical trace on his surroundings.
However, the coachman panicked. His grasp over the horse weakened, and when he took a look at the latter, its hooves rubbed against the wet soil. With a jump, the horse squealed and galloped far faster than it had done before.
While the coachman struggled to tame the horse, Paul finally rested his head upon his seat. That spell was still an advanced psychometry spell – conjuring nightmares in the target. Was it ethical? No. Did Paul give ethics a heed? The answer was the same.
"Alert me when we near the Agosto estate, coachman."
Closing his eyes, the man fell into a nap.
Twenty-minutes later, his eyes fluttered open from a light tug at his knees. With a smile, he whispered, "Creo Tranquilitas Ex Timor."
As quickly as it had raged, the horse lost its fervor and returned to a pace of leisure. The coachman, confused, glanced at Paul with apprehension.
Paul smiled back. "Is that the Agosto estate?" He pointed at a manor in the distance, clearly the largest house within the surroundings.
The coachman remained silent and drove the carriage until the gates of the manor, where he halted.
"10 florin, please."
Paul paid the coachman in full and walked down the carriage. Holding a thick suitcase in his left hand, he stopped before the gate of the Agosto estate.
Looking up to see the silver bell – he grabbed the attached rope and rang it.
'Two minds within the estate,' Paul noted, perplexed by the lack of people.
The two minds neared him and the manor's doors in slow strides. When the heavy gates finally came open, he was even more perplexed.
A uniformed woman and an aristocratic-looking woman stood beyond the door. 'Where's the child?'
"Lady Alice."
Showing no sign of his inner inquiries, Paul smiled and bowed down lightly. The beautiful woman, seemingly Lady Alice, nodded and walked toward him.
"Dr. Stefano. It is nice to meet you."
Paul returned the pleasantries, "Likewise. You've got a beautiful estate."
"Come in. Make yourself at home – My husband's family is my family."
Accepting the invitation, he made his way into the house – still looking for the child. Though the child was only a pretext, he was still intrigued: curious at the magical talent that Matteo's child would display.
Noticing his perception, Alice chuckled and said, "Are you looking for my son? He's upstairs."
"Really? No, I mean…I'm really anticipating the boy's aptitude."
Paul kept his composure. His eyes, however, sneakily scanned every angle above him. No results. There was not a single mind upstairs. His eyes looked towards Alice, 'Is there a trap anywhere?'
If there was, he prepared a few sigils immediately. "I heard what happened to the old housechief – it's tragic, especially to lose such a glorious family member to a curse, an evil trap."
Alice was used to such conversations when silence dawned on her guests. She closed her eyes and said, "Thank you for your interest. I'm still leaving my option open."
Unbeknownst to her, she had fallen into a trap. By forcing her to think of 'traps', the notion rose to the level of a superficial thought. Paul drained a bit of mana and peered into her mind.
'Víctor? Víctor? Matteo? Emilia? Stress?' There was no indicator within her thoughts that she had placed any trap here. Either that, or she was skilled at concealing her intentions and mind.
Going with the latter, Paul kept his caution.
The group of three went upstairs and into the corridor, only halting before a room. Suddenly, a bright light shone through the gaps in the door.
Alice sighed and slammed the door open. Ready for an ambush, Paul uttered a magic chant "Creo-
However, he stopped. Within the room, a toddler walked around. He would look ordinary, if not – get ready for it, the bright orb that hovered above his hands and followed him as he ran through the room.
"Dispel that immediately!"
"Yes, mom!" The orb of light dissipated away from Victor's arms.
Paul fixed the child. He fixed the child. Still fixing him as if he was looking for something, Victor waved his hands, "Mom, why is our guest looking at me like that?"
'Nothing! Not a single trace of his mind! As if he isn't human! As if he isn't alive!' The psychometrist's head hurt from the conjectures it invented, conjectures that all failed to explain this – how could a human, no, a toddler not have a mind of his own?
Yet the child looked alive. Quite alive even, speaking fluently at a seemingly young age.
"I apologize, Lady Alice. It was only that your child speaks so well for his age, I was rather surprised."
Wait, there was something wrong. "Your child can already cast magic?"
That was a light spell right there, no tricks this time. Alice grabbed Victor into a hug and said, "Indeed. I've been teaching him the most basic of spells."
"Good call. I presume then that your child will not have any problems passing our aptitude assessment?"
Alice replied, "I hope so."
Paul approached the toddler. Crouching, he forced a smile, "What's your name, little one?"
He already knew, for he had entered his mother's mind. Nonetheless, interacting with such an anomaly didn't bother him. It didn't bother him at all!
"It's Victor. What's your name, sir?" Victor replied eloquently.
"Dr. P-…Dr. Stefano Agosto. I'm a distant cousin of your father."
"Then what brings you to our house?" Victor retorted.
"Victor, do not be rude!" Alice shook her index finger at her son.
"You need not worry, Lady Alice. If anything, your child seems brilliant."
'He seems scary! What kind of child speaks like that?! Act your age: Look interested in my shiny watches or something…'
"I'll begin the assessment."
Now it was time to shine. Delicately opening his suitcase, Paul brought out a rectangular tool. It consisted of a wooden box of sorts. Behind a glass display, a pointer and various markings seemed to show milestones for an unknown indicator.
The manometer. A tool that measured mana within the air.
On one side of the box was a hole that pierced its insides. Putting the box down, Paul grabbed a thick needle. Attached to the needle was a string with a thin wooden cylinder.
"Do you have your child's height and weight measurements?"
Alice nodded, "Yes. Victor weighs ten kilograms. I believe he last towered 80 centimeters."
"Good."
Paul inserted the wooden cylinder within the hole. Suddenly, the arrows inside the box moved.
"10 magicules," he muttered and wrote down.
"Victor. I'm going to ask you to come here," Paul beckoned to the toddler.
Victor nodded and approached the man. "I'll measure the mana concentration inside your body. Open your mouth."
'Still no trace of a mind.'
Paul's attention drifted away as he pondered. This had never happened before. It was terrifying, frankly: to a psychometrist, a mind he could not find was a danger unlike any other.
Looking back towards the manometer, Paul wrote down '200 Magicules.'
"Wait."
"What's wrong with your child?"